Facade
by mellifluous misery
Summary: After a series of shrewd investments, Hikigaya Hachiman returns to Chiba a wealthy man. But more importantly, is he a changed man?
1. Scheme

**Act 1: A Final Scheme**

* * *

Most of the socioeconomic gauges of success – wealth, prestige, power – are far from unattainable. All that is needed to achieve these is the input of sufficient effort, and – regrettably – risk. Source? Me.

The majority of university students graduate, at best, with a clean slate. A more likely outcome was graduating with crippling debt. The value of higher education becomes ever harder to comprehend in this modern era. Our universities grow ever closer to being factories producing drones for corporate labor. At the end of my four years at Todai, however, I found myself with a nearly useless degree in economics and a markedly more useful half of a percent stake in the shares of Toyota Motor Corporation. Sadly, my wealth will open more doors than my education ever will. My position as representative of the individual shareholders on Toyota's board of directors can hardly be attributed to some scrap of paper from Todai.

I suspect that the Hikigaya Hachiman of old would have hated this job. Though it carries an appealingly low amount of actual duties and allows me to work from the comfort of home, there is something utterly disagreeable about sitting in a conference call with a dozen repulsively greasy business executives. The old Hachiman would have despised it. But I tolerate it, for I have a purpose that he did not:

To become the god of a new world.

* * *

 **A TOKYO APARTMENT**

* * *

After a particularly exhausting conference, I was surprised to find my phone ringing. Like any sane man, my privacy was jealously guarded. As a result, only a few higher executives, as well as my family, had my personal number. Since we had just finished a conference, a call from another executive was quite unexpe—. Oh. It appeared that the caller was my sister Komachi.

After a slight hesitation, I picked the phone up.

"Hikigaya speaking."

A short peal of laughter sounded over the speaker. Then, my sister's ever-so-familiar voice said, "Hey, oniisan. Why so stiff?"

I cleared my throat. "I'm not stiff, just tired. How are your studies?"

Her voice softened. "Oniisan, there's no need to worry about Komachi's studies. They are going well. Hey, listen. Don't exhaust yourself. Are you eating well?"

Ah, she had caught me red-handed. For all the benefits that wealth could afford, I had never quite managed to wean myself off a diet of instant noodles and black coffee. At least I had moved on from MAX coffee. Sweet things were for kids.

I gulped. "Uh, yeah. Of cour—."

A sigh interrupted my carefully constructed denial. How had she seen through it so rapidly?

"Can you come home this winter?" My sister's voice shook. "It… has been so long. Komachi m-misses you."

I finally allowed myself a small smile.

"Actually, I have been planning on moving back to Chiba."

* * *

I loathe grandstanding. Despite that, it was the easiest means to an end – the path of least resistance. With that in mind, I set about searching for a residence to purchase in Chiba. There were several criteria that my new home would have to satisfy.

First of all, it had to be expensive. While I had no doubt that my parents would be deeply opposed to such an excessive purchase, the time when they had influence over my finances had long since passed. Besides, wildly expensive real estate transactions would draw the media attention that I needed (hated).

Secondly, it had to be expansive. Nothing screamed wealth to guests more than wasted space, and I certainly planned to host many social events. Though the concept is disturbing, such excess was necessary.

Lastly, I wanted a place close to my parents' home. I'm not a heartless son!

* * *

 **THE HIKIGAYA RESIDENCE**

* * *

"Oniisan, what is this?"

A rolled-up newspaper smacked me in the head. Groaning, I extricated myself from my cozy lounge beneath the kotatsu to inspect the front page. I smirked.

"A statement," I answered smugly.

My sister was not pleased with my detailed explanation and yanked my ear. Ow!

"Just because you have a lot of money now doesn't mean you can waste it like this! You're going to die impoverished and alone if you keep spending like this," she wailed.

"Ironic that you should choose to lecture one of the richest men in Japan on finances," I retorted. After all, I had amassed my wealth alone, just like I had always done things.

My adorable little sister smiled at me in a manner that would make the hearts of other men flutter.

"Then why not spend money on Komachi instead?"

"But I already spend so much on you," I grumbled. "I've already paid three years of tuition to Sodai, not to mention housing and everything…"

"But that mansion costed you so much more! Does that piece of property really mean more to you than Komachi?"

She faked a sob. I was trapped.

"Alright," I conceded. "I will take you shopping. What do you want to buy?"

To my horror, my sister cheerfully informed me, "Cleaning supplies for Komachi's apartment."

* * *

Unlike many other wealthy executives, I do not use limousines. Why risk running over some other poor sod minding their own business when you can use Chiba's top-notch public transportation system? In fact, it wasn't farfetched to conclude that people who rode around in limousines were raging narcissists who fed on public attention.

It wasn't difficult to remain incognito on a public train, either. I had taken steps to ensure that all the local media knew of me was a surname. My highly unphotogenic appearance lent itself well to that task.

As my sister and I left the train station, I noticed several large posters affixed to a wall, apparently depicting politicians. That reminded me – elections for the National Diet were scheduled for next year.

"Komachi," I said absentmindedly. "Are you going to vote next year?"

She tilted her head at me curiously.

"Huh? Oniisan, why do you ask that?"

"Uh, I—"

"Oh, Komachi knows! Oniisan must be buying some political candidate with all his money! Is that right?"

"Your oniisan made his money through perfectly legal means," I growled. "It grieves me that you think I am some corrupt swindler."

"Just kidding!"

My darling sister laughed girlishly as she skipped on ahead.

"Oi, wait up!"

As I struggled to keep pace with my enthusiastic sister, I begrudgingly allowed myself a thought. Perhaps, it could be said that I had missed Komachi too.

* * *

 **A VERY EMPTY MANSION**

* * *

"Are you really going to live here by yourself?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

Somehow, my sister had managed to persuade me to bring her into my new residence. It was fantastically large compared to the confines of my Tokyo apartment, or even the Hikigaya household. I looked beside me and saw her shudder.

"It's so dark and gloomy… don't you feel like it could be haunted?"

"Hah! Don't be silly. The rational mind fears not the supernatural."

I will admit, however, that some of the shadows in my peripheral vision did appear to be moving from time to time. But surely that was just a trick of the light. I think. Anyways, I had more pressing matters on my mind.

"Say, Komachi…"

"Hm?"

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course!"

Wow, she accepted without even asking the matter of my request. I really feared for my sister's safety in the outside world sometimes. I made a mental note to hire a private eye to investigate her habits in college.

"Do you know how… how to host a party?"

To my surprise, my sister seemed to be taken aback by my words. She blinked slowly. Then her eyes lit up like a pair of Christmas ornaments.

"A party! For who? Old friends? College friends? High school friends?! Komachi is so excited!"

"Even better," I responded boastfully. "A party for all Chiba."

Naturally, I meant only the luminaries of Chiba. The wealthy, the powerful – the connected. Networking was a necessary evil in the twisted world of executives that I had eventually learnt to accept.

"Oh. Okay," she muttered glumly. Her shoulders slumped.

For reasons unknown, my grandiose statement had seemed to deflate her high spirits. What's the matter, girl? Didn't you like social events like this? Think of all the free food!

"Then, do you think I can leave the logistics to you? I can draw up a guest list for you, and hire the catering and entertainment services."

"Yes, don't worry," she mumbled. "Komachi can help her useless oniisan with this request. Let's go home. This place is creepy."

With that, she started walking towards the exit, leaving me behind to ponder the meaning of her words.


	2. Web

**Act 2: Weaving a Web (of lies)**

* * *

Instead of following Komachi through the door, I found myself retreating to one of the balconies of the mansion. Framed by the setting sun, Chiba's iridescent skyline sparkled exquisitely in the distance. Tokyo's horizon could hardly hold a candle to this ethereal beauty. Dare I say I had missed this sight?

I was well aware of my sister's disapproval for my reclusive lifestyle. It wasn't something I planned on changing. Given her circumstances, it was hard for her to understand my situation. Unlike me, Komachi was blessed with good looks and a vibrant personality. It was easy for her to build happy, sincere relationships. For me, on the other hand… it suffices to say that money cannot buy meaningful companionship. The people who approached me were all invariably drawn by financial greed. I have the utmost of contempt for them. But then again, perhaps it was all a result of my egotistic attempts at self-preservation. To protect myself, I chose to remain unattached.

A bitter winter breeze made me shiver and grasp my coat tightly. It was time to head home.

* * *

 **THE HIKIGAYA RESIDENCE**

* * *

The Internet is a magnificent tool for the man who seeks to avoid social contact. In the span of less than sixty minutes, without having to speak to a single person, I had finished arranging the catering and entertainment services for my event. Such elegant simplicity!

Thankfully, my talented little sister had – albeit with some degree of reluctance – done the heavy lifting concerning the logistics of the event and tied up all the loose ends. She really was remarkably competent for someone who seemed to be an airhead all the time. Now all that remained to bring the party to life was to send out the invitations.

I tentatively drafted a guest list containing the names of the more prominent residents of Chiba. Though I recognized a few names here and there, my time spent away in Tokyo had clearly taken a toll on my familiarity with Chiba. I hesitated briefly before emailing my sister. Komachi was going to hate this list.

I found her fawning over our elderly cat, Kamakura.

"Komachi, I sent it to you," I said. I paused, trying to think of a way to make the list more acceptable to her. "Listen – if you want, you can add onto the list. Invite whoever you want."

My sister smiled sweetly at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Sure!"

* * *

 **A VERY NOISY MANSION**

* * *

I hate social events of all types with a fiery passion, and though I was the host, this party was hardly an exception. In fact, this was worse. Though I was no stranger to parties and mixers, I could barely tolerate them even when I attended them with acquaintances. How was I supposed to survive as a dignified host to hundreds of strangers? The turnout from all the invitees was delightfully high, and it was my happy duty as host to greet my guests and ensure their satisfaction.

Somehow, Komachi had anticipated that I was in over my head and had bailed me out. She was growing into quite the young socialite.

Thanks to my sister's generosity, I found myself furtively prowling the hallways of my mansion, with no particular aim in sight. There was simply no need to engage in direct networking. The magnitude of the event already did well to get my name out.

My appearance lent itself well to my desire to stay unnoticed. No one in their right mind would willingly approach a shifty looking stranger, however well dressed, to start a conversation. Or so I thought, until I heard someone call my name.

"Hikigaya-kun!"

Startled, I looked up from my glass of wine. I immediately wished I hadn't done so. Standing down the hall from me was a familiar face from my past.

Yukinoshita Haruno still looked every bit the flawless socialite that she had appeared to be when I had seen her last, almost four years ago. I stared at her, sizing her up. Now that I thought about it, it was only natural that she would be here, as representative of the Yukinoshita family.

She returned my gaze with a patronizing, manufactured smile. A very loud silence ensued.

I decided to acknowledge her.

"Yukinoshita-san." I bowed. "It is my pleasure to have you with us this evening. I have some duties to attend to, so I am afraid I must excuse myself."

Before I could flee, she had closed the gap between us and leaned into my ear.

"And just what could those duties be?" she whispered. "Slinking around in his own home like a thief?"

She straightened and giggled. "You're funny, Hikigaya-kun. I've already watched you sneak up and down this hallway three times tonight. I wonder what you are trying to do."

Ah, it looked like my options for escape had all been cut off. Well, the cornered rat – wait, I meant bear – will stand and fight!

"I think my message to the guests has already been conveyed," I replied. "It takes a fool to miss it."

"You're right, as usual. Loud and clear. No one could miss it. But," she said, leaning closer again, "my question is, why?"

I backed away. "What do you mean?"

"If my memory serves me correctly, you despise the idea of working. I believe you even once expressed a desire to be a full-time house husband." She looked disappointed. "In a way, that made you unique. But now you're just like the rest of them. Why did you become boring, Hikigaya-kun?"

I bristled. "Because I realized the paradox that lay in my future. I was— I was a nobody. No one—"

No one deserved to be burdened by me. But I left those words unsaid. Along the way I had convinced myself that this was indeed the best possible option. The path of least resistance – to remake Hikigaya Hachiman. To cast aside the past and step forward boldly as herald of the new world.

Instead of continuing with my statement, I fell silent. This was what Haruno did best, provoking others into taking ill-advised action, then preying on the consequences of said mistakes.

Greed. Lust for power. Fear. Although it was easy for me to deduce the motivation for most people, I could never quite read Haruno. She remained as threateningly mysterious as she was on the day I had first met her.

"Yukinoshita-san, please give me some space."

Bad choice. My words drew a jab to my cheek.

"How cold! You're starting to sound like Yukino-chan. By the way, have you two been in touch?"

"No," I answered truthfully.

Though I parted ways amicably with my acquaintances from high school, I had resolved to put them all out of my mind. It was senseless to delve back into the past, just as it was senseless to reread a book I already knew by heart.

"It's her birthday today, you know."

"So?" If I persisted with my monosyllabic responses, perhaps she would grow tired of trying to bait a rise out of me and move on to abusing some other poor soul.

My tormentor's tone grew softer and, uncharacteristically, empathetic, if it even can be called that. "Hikigaya-kun, whatever it is that you sought, did you ever find it?"

"Yes," I said, blankly, but without hesitation.

"So you grew to equate them," she mused. "How… disappointing."

I opened my mouth to let out a retort, but found myself strangely speechless. All of my carefully formulated defenses had been thrown into a state of disarray.

Before I could recollect my bearings, she sighed. "I will be seeing you, Hikigaya-kun."

And as suddenly as she had appeared, Yukinoshita Haruno was gone again, with only that distinct feeling of unease left in her wake. As always, persuading Haruno to leave me alone was only half of the battle.

* * *

After Haruno vanished, I escaped onto one of the empty balconies. My meetings with her in the past had always concluded like this, leaving me with a familiar sensation of claustrophobia. I leaned against the smooth wooden railing to take in the nightscape.

Chiba drowned in moonlight set my heart aflutter with its beauty.

To my dismay, I felt a sharp pang of nostalgia. Such sentimentality for the past was dangerous and crippling. It made it impossible to truly reset one's life and focus on important matters in the present.

I do not claim to be an honest man. I am willing to lie as frequently as necessary. In spite of that, I still hold tightly onto what integrity I do have left. I do not lie to myself. Perhaps that was why I found it so hard to ask myself if I was truly happier now. From a rational man's perspective, the answer should have been a simple, resounding YES. But my memories of Chiba had planted a tiny, perilous seed of doubt in my mind.

The past is a graveyard of empty promises.

Right?


	3. Past

**Act 3: The Past Comes to Life**

* * *

I may have drunk too much wine.

It was that god damned Haruno's fault. I'm not some mindless alcoholic!

Fortunately, I am a very high functioning drunk. I can even walk in a straight line! But for the better or worse, the party was dying down, and most of my guests had already left, so my deception abilities were not put to the test. There were still some things I had to do, however. Namely, find my little sister. It wasn't that I was worried about her; she was almost twenty-one and more than capable of fending for herself. Rather, I simply wanted to check in with her to ensure that everything had gone and was going smoothly. Trouble was… she could be anywhere in this expansive, mazelike mansion.

After stumbling (in very straight lines) across the hallways for what seemed to be an eternity, I found Komachi seated at a table with a bottle of wine and some half-empty wineglasses. This was alarming. Could it be that alcoholism ran in Hikigaya genes?

"Don' drin' kthat…" I informed her sternly, sounding out each word distinctly in an effort to communicate to my sister my disapproval for her risky behavior around alcohol.

She looked up curiously at me. Then she frowned and crossed her arms.

"Took you long enough!"

"Wuut?"

"Don't you remember? Oniisan promised to meet Komachi here after the party!"

Odd. I certainly did not remember anything about this exchange. Was my present state of inebriation affecting my short-term memory? Impossible. Try as I might, I could sadly still recall every single word in my conversation with Haruno.

"Ugh, forget it," she told me. "Let's go, they're all waiting!"

I sat down next to Komachi and massaged my temples. 'They'? What did my sister mean? Her mysterious words made me unreasonably confused. Also, why was the table spinning? I decided to rest my head against my arms and close my eyes just for a little bit.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, I found myself leaning against Komachi in a couch located in an entirely different room. Mindful of my intrusion of her personal space, I quickly scooted to the other side of the sofa. Someone seemed to be in the midst of talking to me.

"—kigaya, did yo—"

I stared at the speaker, the words being spoken to me fading into an indiscernible hum. Sitting across from me and my sister were two very familiar faces from my high school years.

Hiratsuka Shizuka and Totsuka Saika.

Strangely enough, my former sensei seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with me. Didn't I just wake up? Why was she asking me about ramen shops?

"What are you talking about?"

Totsuka smiled serenely at me when he noticed my bewildered gaze. I felt an inexplicable sense of mild disappointment when I saw that he was cultivating a light stubble.

"Haven't you been paying attention, Hachiman?" he innocently inquired, gracefully managing to avoid taking on an accusatory tone. "You suggested meeting up later to catch up further."

Maybe I really had drunk too much wine. What had happened? I remembered the unpleasant encounter with Haruno – that had been the cause of my drinking. Then I had walked around trying to find Komachi and… and woken up here? How bizarre. There was a gap in my memory. Try as I might, I could not determine how I had traveled to this particular room.

My musings on my recent spate of memory loss were interrupted by a groan from Hiratsuka-sensei.

"That's not what he means, Totsuka. Clearly the wine has gotten to his head." She turned to me and gestured with an empty bottle of wine. "An excellent vintage, by the way. The 2001 Saint-Émilion? I like your taste."

She set the bottle down with a clatter next to an alarmingly full glass of wine. To my horror, she then proceeded pick up the wineglass and inhale its contents in a single gulp. Komachi seemed to share my concern.

"Sensei," she called out worriedly. "Should you be drinking that much at once?"

Hiratsuka-sensei grunted. "I'm used to this. You should be worrying about your brother instead. He's the one that got blackout drunk."

Feeling my sister's wrathful gaze settle on me, I felt compelled to change the subject.

"So, uh, why are you two here?"

Totsuka scratched his head sheepishly. "Hachiman, we already told you this…"

"Don't expect him to remember," Hiratsuka-sensei sighed. "Anyways, as we said before, your sister invited us."

I grimaced. Something like this was more or less to be expected when I had given Komachi free reign over the invitations, but I had hoped to evade her invitees by keeping a low profile during the party. I certainly had not expected her to force such a direct confrontation. She was well aware of my distaste for such things. Well, I suppose I owed it to her for all the help she had given me over the past couple of weeks.

To test the depths of my sister's intent, I decided to assume the role of the gracious host.

"I'm very glad you could come. Did you enjoy my party?"

Across from me, poor Totsuka seemed to be quite bewildered, but otherwise remained silent. Hiratsuka-sensei, on the other hand, snorted loudly.

"Wealth has ruined you, Hikigaya," she replied cryptically. She glanced at her wrist. "Seems like it's time for me to depart. We shall talk more tomorrow, then."

With that, she stood and swept a dark coat over her shoulders. Totsuka sprang up a little too eagerly after her.

"Ah, I guess I will go, too," he said. "See you tomorrow, Hachiman!"

* * *

After the sound of the footsteps at the end of the hall had faded away, I turned to Komachi, full of questions. She seemed to know what was on my mind.

"Oniisan promised to go to the new Tenka Ippin in Chiba with Hiratsuka-sensei and Totsuka-san tomorrow, at noon," she murmured.

"Thanks. Listen—"

Komachi interrupted me, shaking her head slowly.

"I," —she spoke hesitantly, as though finding her voice for the first time— "I worry about you a lot."

"I know," I muttered. "I'm sorry. I won't drink like that again."

She shook her head again. "No. _Why_ did you drink?"

A thousand possible excuses sprang to mind, each as easy to thoughtlessly spit out as the last. I was drinking with an acquaintance. I didn't keep track of how much I had drunk. I was careless. But I couldn't bring myself to placate my sister with yet another lie. Not this time. An inexplicable exhaustion had come over me; I felt as though my shoulders were shackled to blocks of concrete. Perhaps I was still experiencing the effects of my alcohol use.

"I met Yukinoshita Haruno earlier," I admitted. "She brought up some… things that I would rather not think about. It was my fault. I shouldn't have been bothered by what she said."

My sister smiled sadly at me. It was a beautiful, brittle smile; the tiniest of disturbances would shatter it into a thousand pieces. She turned away, but I could still see a tear trickle down her cheek.

"What did she say?"

I sensed that Komachi was leaving many things unsaid. For my sake, or hers?

"She asked me about _why_. Why I chose this path. Why I—" I caught myself.

A patient silence fell over the room. My sister was waiting for me.

Why I chose to cast the past behind. Haruno had never exactly asked me that, but it was a question I had found myself struggling to resolve ever since my encounter with her. Maybe even before then.

"I don't know," I finally continued. "I was being irrational. This was all necessary. And I am happy to be here."

"Are you really?" she whispered, seeming to sense my insincerity.

"Of course I am."

"You're not," she stated flatly, this time with such utter surety that I could not help but feel convinced. "I— I used to see this… spark in you. When you were happy. And when I saw you like that, how could I not be happy too?"

I felt a terrible, splitting pain emerge in my chest. Was this what they called heartache? Or was it just a simple case of gastric reflux?

She continued. "But it died out, when you left for university. What happened? Some days you feel like just an empty shell. Some days… I don't even know who you are. I…"

All I could do in response to her words was to stand there numbly, like some worthless, sullen statue, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. The world was becoming hazy again; my sister's words faded into each other, becoming an incoherent stream of sound. She shook my shoulders. I caught a few words here and there: 'love', 'please', 'help'. But, not being cognizant of their meaning, I could only continue to stand there, wordless, wretchedly wallowing in my pathetic inaction.

Until a tear-stricken Komachi left, leaving me alone with the agonizing sense of having committed some dreadful mistake, but not knowing where and how I had gone wrong.

* * *

\

lightly edited act 2 and changed the title!


	4. Sparks

**Act 4: Sparks of Life**

* * *

I have always treasured the silent moments of my life. Living in that empty Tokyo apartment had taught me to how to embrace the quiet more than ever. Even so, the silence that consumed the mansion after my sister left was unendurable. More than anything, I wanted to return home. To lock myself in my lovely warm room and cry myself to sleep. But where could I go? I had long since sold off my Tokyo apartment, and I certainly could not return to my parents' house. Komachi was probably there, and I lacked the will to confront her questions again. Whenever I thought about it, I would be overwhelmed by the suffocating sense of having lost my way, like some pitiful child.

That left only one, unacceptable option: this repulsively silent prison of solitude that I was standing in. Having analyzed my choices, I decided on what I had spent half a lifetime doing. Running away.

Though many would tell you otherwise, there is nothing humiliating about retreating before a problem. Source? Me.

* * *

 **A SEEDY HOTEL ROOM**

* * *

Ironically, the shabby hotel room that I found myself staying at was much more homely than any part of the mansion I owned. As I started to drift off to sleep on the cheap, scratchy linen, haphazard thoughts wandered into my head. Tokyo. Kamakura's fluffy head. Tenka Ippin's delicious ramen.

* * *

I woke up with a throbbing headache (so much for drinking water) and a ravenous appetite for ramen, slightly before noon. To alleviate these symptoms, I decided to head to the new Tenka Ippin branch that had opened in Chiba slightly over a month ago. How did I know of this development? Simple; I had funded part of it. Call me hedonistic, but there was no reason for me to deprive myself of the sole element that denied Chiba perfection.

The human brain can be like a well-oiled machine. When something occupies your thoughts often, it is easy to bring up to the forefront of your mind. Bury it, and the processes that govern recollection eventually become rusty and dysfunctional. Even so, the walk to the train station struck me with another irritating reminder of the past. Just how many countless times in my youth had I overslept and wandered towards Kaihin Makuhari to seek out ramen? Yet… annoying or not, there was no denying the truth behind those peaceful moments. They had been important to me.

Komachi was still wrong, though. These _were_ happier times. Just look at me, bringing Tenka Ippin to Chiba. Could the old Hachiman have ever dreamed of such magnificent deeds? Probably not, since he did not dream. We were similar in that regard.

* * *

 **TenPin**

* * *

Staring from the storefront into the Tenka Ippin, I found myself second-guessing my investment.

There were two familiar forms seated at the counter. I remembered now, but it had completely slipped my mind after the chaotic events of last night. I had apparently arranged an appointment with Hiratsuka-sensei and Totsuka here. At noon. Which meant I was almost half an hour late.

Tardiness was a habit I had beaten out of myself during my Todai years. To the elites on the social ladder, habitual lateness was completely unacceptable. In certain instances, it was even better to be absent than tardy. Unsurprisingly, I found myself reconsidering my choice of lunch. After a short and heavily one-sided battle, however, my stomach won out.

As I approached the two at the counter, Totsuka seemed to notice my movement. He moved to the side and waved. Such otherworldly kindness! I sat down in the space he had cleared between the two of them.

"Kotteri."

Hiratsuka-sensei glanced over. "Late as usual, Hikigaya."

"And yet you have done nothing," I sniped back. "In your old age, you have become mellow."

I instinctively cringed, waiting for the blow that my snide remark was sure to draw. Instead, I was met with an extended, mournful sigh. I snuck a look to my left. Who was this woman slumped in the chair next to me? She almost looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Hachiman," a mellifluous voice breathed in my right ear. "Don't be cruel to Sensei."

Could this be the voice of my guardian angel, guiding me away from sin?

"S—Sorry, Totsuka," I stammered out. I repent, I repent!

Turning to the debilitated woman to my left, I found myself at a loss as to what to do in order to undo my crimes. I hesitantly touched her shoulder.

"Hiratsuka-sensei…"

Without warning, she jolted upright. In my surprise, I almost fell off my seat.

"Ahh! No, sorry! I didn't mean it… You're still young, you're still beautiful…"

I was being sincere. She was really still a stunning woman. But despite my reassurances, my former sensei looked at me with tired eyes. Now _that_ seemed to age her immeasurably.

"Maybe you didn't mean it. But that doesn't change the fact that it's true," she said dejectedly.

"No…"

"Anyways," she continued, ignoring my protest, "We aren't here to discuss me. We're here to discuss you, Hikigaya."

"Oh. What?"

"You were so weird last night," Totsuka chipped in. "I could hardly tell if it was really you, after all this time!"

"Sorry. I just had too much to drink before then."

He looked a bit surprised. "I never took you to be that type, Hachiman. I guess things really have changed."

"I'm not," I protested. "I've just had a lot of things in mind lately. I just— I lost track of myself."

"Hikigaya, why do you do this to yourself?" Hiratsuka-sensei asked kindly. Though her tone was gentle and motherly, I couldn't help feeling that same sickening sensation of anxiety that had hung faintly over my mind for the past twelve hours. Didn't Komachi ask me the exact same thing? Didn't _Haruno_ ask me the same damn thing?

I felt as though I was losing touch with my sanity. Around every corner I turned to was another person to ask that same exasperating question. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. _Why!_ And yet my answer had remained as unsatisfactory for myself as they surely were for my questioners.

Hikigaya Hachiman ran away from problems he couldn't solve. But I couldn't run away from this. All I had to offer to my kindhearted, long-suffering sensei was the same disappointment that I had for my poor, compassionate sister.

"I don't know," I whispered, again feeling that terrible guilt of some heinous, nameless crime. "Please, don't ask anymore. I don't want to be a burden on your conscience."

On hearing my plea, Hiratsuka-sensei laughed.

"And you think that if you hide, your close ones will stop caring about you? The world doesn't work that way, Hikigaya. No matter what you do, even if not physically, you will always continue to weigh on their thoughts. Some would argue that it is then your duty to do right by them."

She sighed briefly and resumed, a touch of anger creeping into her voice. "Instead of cutting them off. Now, I'm not your mother. I have no right to expect anything. But… all you had to do… just one word. One phone call. Not… four years of silence."

Before I could construct some flimsy excuse to defend my actions, Totsuka rescued me.

"I'm sure Hachiman has his reasons," he said soothingly. "I still believe in him."

"Why?" I idly asked, curious as to what inspired this blind, innocent faith.

He smiled angelically at me. "Because you promised."

* * *

Once upon a time, Hikigaya Hachiman had misunderstood Totsuka Saika. But the latter was a patient soul, so he had waited for Hikigaya Hachiman, until one day, when Hikigaya Hachiman had finally, clumsily, realized the mistake. That day, they made a promise. A promise of mutual aid and understanding.

* * *

A promise which I had abandoned and nearly forgotten. Yet now, when Totsuka had found me, confused and without direction, hiding from the past, he had simply chosen to reaffirm our the past we had shared. Certainly, my personal history with him had colored my view of things. Had it been some random acquaintance from my past, I would have instantly suspected them of pursuing my wealth. But I knew what a liar looked like, and Totsuka was just… Totsuka. For all his marvelous complexity, greed and malice were vices I could not attribute to him.

Suddenly, I recognized what the feeling of guilt that had been looming over my head was. It was an emotion that I had deliberately chosen to distance myself from. In the past, I even believed to experience it was to betray your former self.

Regret.

As though the thought of it had opened some unseen floodgate, an overwhelming sense of regret swept over me. More than anything I regretted leaving my past behind. And as I thought back over all that which I had buried, I had an epiphany. I remembered that which I had sought at the end of my path. Somewhere in those endless, sleepless nights spent reading, researching, working towards wealth, I had lost sight of my goal. I had forgotten the end that would justify the means. And having lost track of that, those means became ever more degenerate.

My methods have always been solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short¹. In a word, they were unacceptable to those who cared for me. Being weak as I was, I could not bring myself to face that truth. It was only with Totsuka's strength that I had dared attempt introspection.

"Thank you," I said. "And… sorry. I don't know how to say this better, but, truly, sorry for everything, Hiratsuka-sensei. I hope… I hope you can forgive me."

Hiratsuka-sensei looked at me mistrustfully. I didn't blame her. Even now it was probably still difficult to discern between the web of lies I had woven, and the truth that I was now speaking.

"Where will you go from here?" she asked doubtfully.

Trying to put every gram of sincerity I had into my reply, I answered, "Somewhere happy, I think."

But first, I had to apologize to Komachi.

* * *

¹Hobbes, on "the life of man" outside society


End file.
